


Hell is Life Without You

by ecs



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:41:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2840075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecs/pseuds/ecs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is blood. There is lots and lots of blood. And then there is nothingness. </p><p>Everything dissolves into darkness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell is Life Without You

I.

Three months and four days but it feels like it has been much, much longer. These days, all Chris thinks about is Cam. He is everywhere – in every thought, in every decision that goes through Chris' mind. He'll wake up in the morning and stumble into the kitchen, open up a cabinet and reach for a mug but he'll stop. He'll stop because even the sight of that is another reminder of what he has lost. 

It's an image of Cam standing in his kitchen, dressed only in his briefs with a mug full of coffee pressed to his ever chapped lips, that burns bright into Chris' memory. 

So he'll shut the door and opt for a glass of milk instead. 

And if it wasn't bad enough that Cam is etched into every corner and every crack of Chris' life, he has to see him everyday at work too. He has to watch Cam smile and laugh and undress for chrissakes and pretend like none of this makes him feel like he's falling apart on the insides.

II.

Chris is alone in the locker room after a big win against LA. He finishes dressing and looks up to find Cam standing in the doorway, staring at him. Their eyes lock and he can see that Cam's are cold, unwelcoming. He already knows what this is about.

"You had a good game, a hat trick and an assist. Impressive," Cam says, but there is nothing congratulatory about the way he says it. 

"Thanks, you too," Chris replies, not wanting to get into it with him.

"So, it's evident that you can't mix business with pleasure," Cam scowls. 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Are we not doing Kreider Kisses anymore cause I broke up with you?"

"It's not that, Cam. Just leave it be, okay?"

"No, dude. I'm not 'leaving it be.' What the hell is wrong with you lately, anyway?" Cam asks, angrily. Chris shakes his head and slings his duffel bag over his shoulder. He heads for the door but Cam stops him. He tries to grab Chris, who steps back, avoiding any form of physical contact.

"Please just don't touch me. Please," Chris says, staring down at his feet with flushed cheeks. It doesn't take Cam long to realize what this is all about. He doesn't say anything, he just steps aside and lets Chris walk away. It is the first time in three months and four days that Chris has let Cam know how hurt he is.

III.

Three months and 17 days and another sleepless night. Chris flicks on the nightstand light and methodically rubs his temple. Lately, the only thing that has helped him sleep is taking a late night drive. There is something about driving on the highway at 2 in the morning that clears his mind like nothing else. So he grabs his sweatshirt and keys and heads out into the dimly lit street.

He drives and thinks. Thinks about regret. Thinks about how he let Cam slip between his fingers.

He spent the last month of their relationship too preoccupied with his career to even notice that he had been setting aside his relationship as a second priority. When he finally realized this, it was too late. Cam was already gone and their relationship was unsalvageable.

He spent a lot of time thereafter thinking about what he considered to be most important in life. Was advancing in his career really more important to him than losing the person he loved the most in the world? Of course he now knows the answer to that. But it's too late now. He had already tried to win Cam back once. He had been drinking, alone, at a bar downtown when he finally mustered enough courage to tell Cam how he felt. To his utter dismay, he was answered with a "Get lost Kreider" and a slammed door in his face.

Chris glances down and squints at the time. The clock on that dashboard reads 2:49 am. When he looks back up, he is met with bright lights. It is late and he is tired and it takes him one second too long to understand what is happening. He tries to swerve but its too late. 

It is the sound of a truck hitting a car head on. It is the sound of a death sentence.

The next thing he remembers, Chris is lying still on the pavement, in a pool of shattered glass, alone and scared. All he can think about is regret. 

There is blood. There is lots and lots of blood. And then there is nothingness. 

Everything dissolves into darkness.

IV. 

Cam is interrupted from a deep sleep. It is the sound of his telephone ringing that wakes him, it's rings bouncing off the walls of his empty Upper Westside apartment. Who in God's name is calling at 5:30 in the morning? he thinks.

"Hello?" he says groggily into the receiver. 

"Cam, it's Coach V. I've got some really bad news," Alain's voice transmits across. Cam sits up a little taller, no longer tired. "It's about Chris Kreider." The two words he was hoping wouldn't come out of Coach's mouth. 

"What... what is it?" Cam stutters, the panic rising in his voice. 

"He was hit by a truck while driving down 95 early this morning... he was hit by a drunk driver head on. Cam, it's really bad. I need you to come down here, i'm at Presbyterian. They haven't been able to contact his family and you're listed as an emergency contact."

"Oh my God. OK. I'll be right there. Is... is he going to make it?" Cam practically whispers. The hesitation at the end of the line makes Cam's heart drop.

"I don't know," Alain finally answers. The defeat in his voice can be heard through the phone line. 

Moments later, Cam is rushing to Presbyterian. It is the worst night of his life.

 

V.

Cam never liked hospitals. The bright lights. The sterile smell. Blue scrubs. White sneakers. Blood.

The hospital was where he lost his mother. Two weeks after his 16th birthday he stood in the brightly-lit, sterile smelling hospital holding his dying mother in his arms. He can still see the blood dripping from her wrists onto the sneakers she had just given him two weeks earlier. 

The hospital is where his teammate went in for a flu shot and never came out. He still remembers the headline '6 injured, 4 killed in fatal hospital shooting.'

And now the hospital is where his ex is getting treated after getting hit head-on by a drunk truck driver.

Cam never liked hospitals. But now he hates them.

VI. 

Chris wakes up several hours later in an unfamiliar place. After moments of disoriented confusion, he realizes he is in a hospital. 

"Oh great! You're awake. You have a few visitors who would really like to see you. That is, if you're feeling up for it!" says an overly peppy nurse who he's never seen before.

"Uh, yeah. OK," he replies. All he can remember is laying on the pavement. It feels like a very long time ago. 

Several moments later, the nurse comes back with his teammates. One by one, they file into the room and crowd around his bed. He looks and looks but Cam isn't there. 

"Hey, buddy. How are you holding up?" Coach V is the first to break the awkward silence. 

"Well i'm not dead, so thats a start," Chris tries his hand at humor. A few of the guys laugh but most don't know how to react. "What exactly happened to me?"

"You were driving down 95 around three when a drunk truck driver hit you head on. You went through the windshield. It's a miracle that you're alive. Not to mention, you haven't suffered anything severe."

It takes him a minute to comprehend the words. "Drunk truck driver." "Through the windshield." "Head on." They don't seem real.

"Oh," is all he can say. He changes the subject. "Where is Cam?"

A couple of the guys look at each other and then back at Chris, pity sitting in their eyes.

"You know... Cam and hospitals... They don't go well together," Henrik tries to explain.

"Oh."

Chris shuts his eyes, overwhelmed with his exhaustion. He is too tired to be angry. 

VII. 

It takes three weeks for Cam to force himself to visit Chris. When he knocks on the oak doors of his apartment, Chris looks surprised to see him. Surprised and angry. Very angry.

"What are you doing here?" he demands.

"What do you mean? I'm here to see how you're doing," Cam replies. He's never seen Chris so visibly upset.

"Oh yeah, just fantastic. I got hit by a truck, nearly died on the side of the road, and you weren't there for any of it. So thanks a lot," Chris retorts. "Get lost, Talbot." 

The words sting. He didn't even know Chris remembered the night he came to Cam's apartment. He assumed he was too drunk to know what he was saying. 

Chris stares at him for a moment longer and pushes the door shut. Cam begins to feel panicky, like he is losing something. And he is. He's losing his chance to make things right. He pounds on the door.

"Chris, please. Let me in," he begs.

"Why should I?" is what comes from the other side of the door.

"We need to talk," Cam states. 

The heavy oak door creaks open and Chris stands there in full. His arm is in a sling and his visible skin is bruised and cut. Cam notes how drained he looks, like the world has left his body.

"So talk," Chris says, anger still lingering in his voice.

"Why did you stop doing Kreider Kisses?" Cam asks.

"Seriously? This, again? You've got to be joking right now," Chris yells. 

"No. Just tell me why. I need to hear it," Cam pleads.

"You already know the answer, Cam! How obvious do I have to make it? I'm still in love with you. And it kills me because we haven't talked, like really talked, in over three months and the last thing I think of before I blackout in a pool of my own blood is how much I regret letting you go. The last person I think about before I think I'm gonna die won't even come visit me. It sucks."

These are the words Cam had waited so long to hear.

"You know, I did go hospital that night. You had me listed as an emergency contact. I went to the hospital thinking that this is the place where I lost my mother, my teammate, and now it's going to be the place where I lost the love of my life. Because thats what you are, Chris, the love of my life. I couldn't stand to look at you lying in that hospital and know that I hadn't told you that. I couldn't do it and I'm sorry for that," Cam says, choking back the tears. 

Chris can't hold himself back any longer. He leans down and kisses Cam. Kisses him like he's dreamt about for the last four months and one week. Kisses him like he doesn't need anything else in the world. And in this moment, he swears he doesn't.


End file.
